


no grave

by m0nsterwife



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Body Horror, F/M, Ghouls, Human/Monster Romance, Murder, Necromancy, Necrophilia, Obsessive Behavior, Stalking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 23:47:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29990667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m0nsterwife/pseuds/m0nsterwife
Summary: Rey isn't going to let death keep her from getting what she's always wanted. AU, mind the tags/warnings.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	no grave

**Author's Note:**

> MAJOR TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR THIS WORK: rape, necrophilia (Ben's alive but he's dead), monster fucking, stalking, murder, body horror.
> 
> Please do not read if you are uncomfortable with these things, I will always place warnings at the beginning of chapters so you know what to expect. 
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: stalking, murder, obsessive behavior, mild body horror

“ _Down… Further… Just- Right there_ ,” his laugh fills the room and Rey cringes, fingernails chewed to a nub but she scratches them over her teeth anyway. The room is dark, her face illuminated by the television screen. It mirrored her phone and it was sort of eerie watching the same video play muted on her small screen like a ghost of a ghost. She leans back, placing her phone down on the table so that she can no longer see it. The room grows darker. “ _That’s perfect, it looks perfect babe_ ,” his voice sounds relieved, they’d been at it for hours, trying to get the frame center on the wall he’s pointing the camera at. This is the part she always skips, so she reaches forward before the view changes and she sees who the slim hands positioning the frame belong to. Her finger moves out of memory, skipping ahead until the camera is turned on his face. The grainy picture doesn’t capture just how beautiful he is, but she still gasps softly like someone has put their mouth on hers and sucked out the air from her lungs. 

She smiles, mouth twitching like she’s going to start crying again, then she reaches forward once more but this time past the coffee table. Her knees hit the floor and then she’s scooting until her face is pressed to the television screen, just beside his. Her hand grazes the screen like she can feel him, his name falling from her lips like if she spoke it just right it’d bring him back to life. “Ben…” she whispers, brushing and grazing the blurry image of him with her tooth torn fingers. She backs away from the television when she hears a thump, looking at her bedroom sharply and holding her breath. She’s not sure how long she does, until she sees little spots in her vision, and then she lets it out in a weak puff. It’s quiet again, an uneasy stillness, but a stillness she needed. She wasn’t ready. Standing up, she glances down at the floor and takes notice of the stains she’s left behind on the carpet, black and brown and green. Red.

The same colors swirl down her shower drain moments later. She squeezes the water from her hair every so often before soaking it under the spray once more. Over and over, until the runoff runs clear. Except for the light pink from the blood on her fingertips. Her teeth, maybe. She stares at her palms, hands shaking, and she blinks water from her eyes until she can see them clearly. They’re covered in scratches, some of her nails broken and torn off. Her teeth, she thinks. She hadn’t been digging with her hands, not for the most part anyway. Breathing deep, she turns so she’s facing the water and sticks her hands beneath it. The hiss she lets out is sharp and again she hears a _thump_ , this time against the wall of the shower that the bathroom shared with her bedroom. She jumps, eyes watery in a mixture of tears and the droplets that fall from her eyelashes. “Quiet,” she says, like he can hear her, “You aren’t ready yet.” The moon hadn’t disappeared yet from view, at least not from the window above her bathroom sink.

She wasn’t supposed to go in, not until the morning. Still she finds herself hovering outside the door, that video playing on a loop in her living room. Her fingers are bandaged up, the ones she’d made bleed with her frantic scratching she’d done before finding a bar to pry the lid open. They’re bandaged individually, she sort of feels like a mummy when she looks at them resting on the door between her and him. _Thump_. “You’re not ready,” she pleads, glancing around like someone could help her right now, but she was alone. She was always, utterly and horribly, alone. That laugh brings her back from her spiral, chin wobbling and lips pressed tightly together. She feels like if she opens her mouth she’ll howl. “Soon, Ben. You need to rest, okay?” She pets the door like it’s his hair, her forehead pressed to it now as well. The resounding **thump** is so hard she jumps back and stumbles into the opposite wall. “I said, rest!” she yells at him, mostly out of fear but partially out of frustration. He never did what he was told. That’s why they were in this mess. As if on cue, she hears the voice she loathes coming from the video. She hadn’t skipped it. Stomping over to the living room, she grabs her phone and shuts off the video entirely but not before she sees _her_. The hands on the frame, the hands on her Ben, the hands she’d tied when she left her in the room with him.

“Ben?” It’s muffled, down the hall. “Ben? How- No!”

Rey grins as the voice grows garbled after a weak scream. She turns off the television, sitting down in the middle of the room so she can watch the moon fade. “Or eat, eating is good too,” she murmurs like he can hear her. _Thump_ , a soft one this time, like in thanks, against the door and she feels her heart squeeze. “You’re welcome.”


End file.
